


A Little Faith Goes a Long Way

by dinozaurz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 17:59:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinozaurz/pseuds/dinozaurz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor can't quite kick a habit but all it takes is a special someone with a shoulder to lean on and maybe a bit of tough love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Faith Goes a Long Way

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in the OUAT fandom. This has been sitting around on my HD for ages and I didn't really intend to post it but honestly this ship needs all the love it can get! Prepare for some seriously sugary fluff.

The weather is stuck somewhere between wet mist and light rain, and between the sweet smell of soggy grass and the light chill of the air, going for a jog is almost irresistible.

Despite her earphones shoved snugly into her ears, she hears it in the silence between songs - the quiet _clink_ of glass hitting the pavement. Red yanks the earphones out of her ears and hair flying, whips her head around to the source of the sound.

It has to say something about her that she can immediately identify Dr. (here she stumbles for a moment. Dr. who exactly? She has no idea which name he prefers) even with his back turned towards her, feet dangling over the edge of the pier.

Quietly so as not to freak him out and cause an accidental fall, she takes a few steps towards him. Victor doesn't even acknowledge her as she stands there taking in the sight of him. He's dressed semi-casually in a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and, for once, dark grey jeans. His hair is uncharacteristically untidy as if someone has spent the last hour doing nothing but running hands through it. A shiver runs through her in sympathy. It's not the coldest day of the season by far, but his clothes are barely optimal for the warmer days, let alone this. She chalks the fact that he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest up to the half-full bottle of what smells like whiskey, wrapped loosely in his hand, tilted precariously to the side.

"I hope you're not about to go for another swim," she remarks casually, though her heart beats just a little harder as his body gives a visible twitch. She actually has no idea if her arrival means the difference between Storybrooke still having an actual surgeon tomorrow or not.

She frowns when Victor turns his head to face her. His eyes are bloodshot and his cheeks flushed from the cold or the alcohol or maybe both. "Ruby," he begins and he sounds just as lost as he looks. She wants to step towards him or maybe just say something more, but last time she did that it really caused more trouble than it did good so holds her breath. Thank heavens for wolf speed, perhaps, but she's not about to risk it again. Instead she shifts to shoot the bottle a pointed look and she can tell out of the corner of her eye when he notices and looks down too. After a minute when their eyes meet again he sits even straighter- as if that's physically possible.

He's still visibly struggling with what to say, it's so clear from his face that he's going through and discarding reason after explanation. He looks distracted enough that Red takes the chance to close the distance and slide down next to him, mirroring his position. Her action seems to shake him into doing something and even if tightening his fingers around the bottle isn't exactly what she was hoping for, she'll take pretty much anything that doesn't include giving suicide another shot.

"No, no swim," he finally confirms and she has to take a moment to recall what he's replying to, and really, that's kind of a lame excuse for how long and hard his brain worked to get to it.

"So, just self-medicating then?" she says and gives the bottle another quick, pointed look. So, maybe it's a little low, whatever. Tough love.

He gives her an amused half-smile, or it would've been if his eyes had been in on it. She thinks she liked Dr. Whale's not-so-subtle innuendo more than Victor Frankenstein's self-loathing eyes. At least she knew what to do with the former. She's not about to let him know that, though, so she says, "You can talk to me, you know?" and it works because the walls crumble, the lines around his eyes soften and he gives a sigh, one of those visible ones that release all the tension you don't realise you've built up. The smile might be more bitter-sweet now, but at least the rigidness is gone.

"I figured it was high time to kick this particular habit," he says, lifting the bottle into his lap. "It was going to follow the fate of the watch...” He trails off, looks down at the bottle in his lap. "But perhaps I underestimated how difficult change can be." His expression is grim, she's watching his face as he watches the horizon and she's got half a mind to just chuck the bottle herself and give him a hug, maybe he's one of those people where all he really needs is a hug, but she chokes the thought. She can't kill his monsters for him. She's shaken out of it anyway when he turns to look at her and she gets it, really, she does. Getting past all the terrible things that's happened to you, because of you, it's not something you can just do from one day to the next but, really, this is as good a starting point as any. She was right there in his place and David reached out to her and she gets it. Sometimes a shoulder to lean on is all it takes.

Victor's looking right at her, but still startles just a little when she speaks. "Throw it," she says, because tough love. At his startled look she adds, firmly, "I know you don't believe in yourself, but I believe in you."

"Really?" he says, so quickly and quietly that she thinks it went right past his brain-to-mouth filter. The fact that barely anyone's really believed in him for so long makes that his first reaction to someone believing in him. He's looking at her, desperately searching her eyes, and all she can do is nod and it's like, _clink_ , the sound of glass on pavement, he finds it. It's all it takes to bring a little bit of determination into his eyes.

"Well, since it would be against my upbringing to doubt a lady..." He trails off but actions speak louder than words anyway as he goes to stand up, holding out a hand to help her up as well. His hand is so freezing when she takes it, it's a wonder his fingers aren't blue or detached, but it still pulls at something in her to let go again. She puts it to the back of her head when he shifts the bottle into the hand she let go off. She can feel the delighted smile spreading on her face when he flips it over, catches it by the neck and draws his hand back over his shoulder.

He throws it with as much strength as he can muster but she doesn't even have time to see it land before she's giddy with excitement for him (and a little bit of pride too) and it takes his arms wrapping around her to realise that she's the one who's pulled him into the hug, arms tight around his middle. He's ice cold to the touch, it's like he radiates it, even though she's pretty sure that's not scientifically how it works, but it only makes her want to hold him tighter, share some of her warmth with him.

She figures in a way she already kind of has.


End file.
